Your Friend
by EchidnaHazard
Summary: (First person) Mr. Eff is free once again, and looking for new puppets to play with...(Finally complete!)
1. Default Chapter

Your Friend  
  
(By Echidna-Hazard)  
  
How are you feeling right now?  
  
Good, huh? Happy, and nice?  
  
Oh, don't give me that. I know how you feel. You're sad, alone, and tired of your life. I should know, you see. I'm your friend.  
  
Yes, I'm your confidant, your only friend, in fact.  
  
I will give you attention when you feel ignored. I will give you compassion when you feel discontented. Empathy when you are not understood. Soothing words when your soul is uneasy. Companionship when you are lonely. I'll give you anything you ask of me.  
  
Yes, I'm the only friend for you. I may ask a couple...small...things in return, yes, just a few petty favors here and there. Is that too much to ask for hours and hours of devotion and caring?  
  
Like one of those sympathizers, psychiatrists or therapists, I'm always there for you when you ask. I've always got an answer for whatever problem you could present to me. I'm confident and attentive.  
  
I'll never fail you; I'm a true friend who can take anything you throw at me. I'll weather your abuse, your anger, and your frustrations. I'll never argue and I'll never complain. I'll be very good to you, I promise.  
  
I'm not even really real, you see. I don't need food or water or air. I don't need anything from you but to spend time with you, your thoughts... and to have you listen to my suggestions.  
  
To do what I say sometimes, without question.  
  
Is this such a big thing? Of course it isn't. Not when you're lonely or frightened, in need of a friend. And I'll come to you and be that companion, that friend, that listening ear, and shoulder to lean on.  
  
I'll wipe your tears away when you cry. I'll comfort you when you're depressed. Make you smile when you're angry. All your negative emotions I will soothe away. You won't be mad, or upset anymore. Like a tree in a downpour, a pet to hug, a kindred spirit: I will shelter you, offer you what I have, and speak the words you hold within.  
  
There's venom in you: I can see it. I will help you rid yourself of it. I will take it in myself, and shield you from it; I will be your armor against the world.  
  
Yes. Your bad thoughts, your rages, your spiraling depressions, I will take them all away from you. I will carry this pain far from you, make you feel at peace again.  
  
But I need your anger. I need you to do a few things for me. Oh, odd little favors, nothing much. Nothing at all compared to the gifts I'll bring to you.  
  
I'll be like a brother, like a father, the only person you can rely on. You can whisper to me your fears and sadness, and I won't laugh or turn away. I will help you get through your darkest days and your loneliest nights, your deepest depression and your most humiliating embarrassment.  
  
I've had ungrateful wretches before in my life who didn't take my gifts for what they were, who thought the tiny price to pay was too high.  
  
One of them was a black haired lunatic named Johnny, who listened to the advice of those around him, ignored my sense... hmm? You know of him. I can see it in your eyes.  
  
He lives nearby, doesn't he? Ohh, yes. He rejected me. Passed on his essence to make me real and ducked out of it before I was complete...he ripped my chance to shreds before my eyes. Like tearing a mother's child apart, I felt that anger and terrible sadness.  
  
But I can rebuild, you see. I'm strong. I don't give in so easily. I rise above, from my ashes. That's where you come in, now, understand?  
  
It's nothing, I swear. Absolutely nothing. Well, nothing major, anyway, little boy. I want to take that negative emotion from you; I want to make you feel good inside. Would you like that?  
  
Ahh. I can see you smiling. I knew you'd like it. Some specific reason comes into play here, dire events in your life, maybe. No matter, the circumstances of your neediness are unimportant. Only that you do have need. I will supply the end to your means. I will be loyal and true, honest and brave. I will frighten off that which would hurt you. I will feed that want, that hole in you.  
  
I need your negativity, though, and I need you to do favors for me. Those are the only catches in this particular deal.  
  
I'm not strong enough to do things for myself. I can be a true buddy to you, but I can't do other, necessary things, to make myself better. I was weakened so much when I lost my earlier...friend... so much so that I find it hard to move now. But if I can feed off your bad thoughts and your bad deeds, I will be able to walk. I will be able to help you even more. Offer you hugs and affection.  
  
Here's where the bad bit happens. I would need these favors... not often, once every three or four days, perhaps? First of all tell me if you're willing to accept what I'm offering.  
  
Yes? Good. Very good. You've made me happy already.  
  
Ahh...already I can feel my joints beginning to loosen again. Wonderful. Now, for the favors... What? You want me to be specific. I understand.  
  
Well, you certainly seem lonely and sad. And sadness all too often translates to violence and anger. Since we don't want this anger to build up inside, it's proper sometimes to let it go in a burst. My favors require these bursts of violence, they're healthy, ask anyone. They improve you.  
  
You see, little boy... this violence is somewhat permanent to the recipient...I guess what I'm trying to say to you is that, well, to put it bluntly:  
  
I need you to kill for me.  
  
So... What do you say? You can think of it as payback for all that the world has done to you, put you through. All that the people did to you. That's how my last friend thought of it.  
  
Come on, tell me! Yes or no? All the pain you suffered, and how dare they not feel it too? How is that fair? Hmm? You look all forlorn, your other friend is just a ball of fluff, your parents hate you, and your neighbor is trying to kill you. You need -someone- here to help you! God owes you that much, doesn't he? That's why he sent me. I'm your guardian angel. I'll help you where nobody else will. And is it such a high price?  
  
You've made a very good choice, Squee. I'm so glad.  
  
And, if you don't mind me saying so, this looks like the beginning of a very, very beautiful friendship. 


	2. The Challenge

Let me pose to you a hypothetical question.  
  
Suppose, for a moment, you are a genius. Your intelligence quota is three hundred and seventy five. Now, the only catch here is that everyone around you, everybody you know; friends, family, the mailman, your teachers; they all have an intelligence quota of three hundred and seventy five also.  
  
Now consider this. If you were born with this, and all the people around you were, how would you think of yourself? Would you comprehend an ability higher or lower than your own, if you were unaware of one?  
  
Oh, yes, I'd imagine after being shown an example, you'd understand that intelligence varies. But what we need is the time before you know.  
  
It's called, 'ignorance is bliss,' I believe. The more learned you are about people, places, situations: the more troubles bog you down, the more you get stuck in a mire of knowledge that you wish you didn't have.  
  
I know this more than anyone else... here I sit, a fierce leer on my face, waiting for my new host to return home from that slave factory they call a school. Oh, I don't mind the fact that it's making him miserable, not at all, really. It's this misery that I'm going to need to soothe away, to win his trust.  
  
I'm going to need his pain. Before, my other host... Jonathan C, to be precise... all he needed to do was what he did naturally. Dispose of humans. Then, of course, paint the wall with blood to keep the demon at bay. Now that the demon is no longer trapped, I have no need of murder, or any bodily fluid. I'll feed off the negative emotions that this child...this supposedly untainted child...will be able to give to me.  
  
Though it will not sate my hunger for long, it is all that is available for the moment, and I can whet my teeth on what he has to offer me.  
  
The door creaks open and I look up eagerly. I've fed off my new host's emotions for a week now, I'm strong enough to move, at least a little. For some reason, he takes comfort in me, despite my somewhat gruesome appearance. I strongly suspect he's jaded, he has a look about him...rough and worn, but still with the frail innocence covering it. I know, I can see these things.  
  
There is a moment of silence as my pale ghostly eyes take in the little boy wearily slipping off his backpack.  
  
"How was your day?" I ask, forcing sugary sweetness into my voice. It's not that hard, I've had plenty of practice with Nny, after all.  
  
Please be a bad day, please be a bad day... the hunger in me is nearly overwhelming. He's had two neutral days in a row.  
  
"Carlton pushed me off the swings." Squee raises his shirt to show a nasty scrape across his front, "And the girls laughed at me."  
  
"Carlton..." I murmur, trying to recall if this boy has been trouble before. My memory tells me no, but usually the details creep past me as I lap up the negative emotions he's sending out.  
  
"Uh-huh. He's a lot bigger than I am." The little boy looks at me with those big angelic eyes, "What should I do about it, Mister Eff?"  
  
I keep the smile firmly frozen on my face. "I think you should teach him a lesson." I speak my mind, as always. I've not found any reason to conceal my thoughts and feelings from Squee. He has no alter-voices to interfere with my own...excepting, perhaps, that teddy bear he carries around. But the toy and I seem to have a truce, because he hasn't disagreed with me yet.  
  
"But he's big." Squee protests weakly. He knows I've got a plan, of course, I always do when I suggest anything to him.  
  
"C'mon." I start out the door, grinning my mad little grin to myself. Squee follows, dragging that hollow-eyed plush along with him. I lead him into the kitchen, devoid of parental distraction, for which I am profoundly grateful, and clamber up onto a chair at the counter.  
  
Squee's is the type of household that must have a lot of everything, three TVs, two desks, several beds, and so forth. It comes as no surprise that there is a small block of wood with nine knives sticking out of it.  
  
I walk up onto the counter and reach out for the biggest, handing it down to Squee. He takes it like it's about to explode in his face, and again I curse my luck that Nny was so insufficient. Jonathan might've been a pain with his suicidal depressions, but the boy could kill, and nobody could deny that.  
  
"Now, look here." I begin to lecture him on what he's supposed to do. It all seems fairly elementary to me, but I need to keep in mind that he's only a little child, and thus has no prior experience with any of the darker pursuits.  
  
"This Carlton walks home, correct?"  
  
"Yeah." Squee's still holding the knife like a bomb.  
  
"Hold it properly, for Chr--it won't hurt you, Squee. Take the handle, hold it so the curved bit is away from you." I change my angry tone to a soothing one, catching myself in the middle of a rather trust-damaging explosion. No need to get riled about something so easily remedied.  
  
"You also walk home. So you can find him. No need to worry about witnesses, you'll be fine in that area." I'm fairly confident that the same force that protected Nny rubbed off on me, and mine should hopefully encompass Squee, or I'll be short another host. -Don't want to consider that possibility, though.  
  
"But...what should I do? Threaten him?" Squee seems about ready to cry, "I don't want to scare him."  
  
"No, you don't threaten him, Squee. He didn't threaten to push you off the swings when he hurt you, did he?" I ask, patiently.  
  
"Well...no." The little boy admits.  
  
"You don't have to threaten him to scare him. He'll be plenty scared just knowing the person he wronged is getting some karmic retribution." The blank look makes me amend, "Some revenge."  
  
"Are you sure about this, Mister Eff?"  
  
"Have I led you wrong yet?" I ask confidently, spreading my hands wide, "Well?"  
  
He pauses. "...No..."  
  
"Then go wild. Feel that anger inside of you, feel the hurt and humiliation. Send it back at him tenfold. You won't regret the results..." I hope.  
  
"Is this right?"  
  
I glance down at him, and my heart, if I had one, would skip a beat or two. He's pointing the knife right at his own chest, the point precariously close to his heart.  
  
"Shit!! Squee, don't do that!!" I yelp, leaping down and snatching it away from him, "Never, never, NEVER do that again--!"  
  
He hangs his head, "I'm sorry. I didn't know where to aim it, that's all."  
  
I reach out with my free hand and tap his throat, "Here," I move down to his chest, above his heart, "Here," then I trace my hand upwards and touch the top of his head, "Or here. The head only as a last resort, though."  
  
Unless he has arm strength like Johnny did, he won't be able to split someone's skull with a kitchen knife. But the soft flesh of the neck or chest, that is well within the realms of possibility. For fear of putting him off even more, I'll make no mention of the skull.  
  
"And I'll feel better, like I do talking to you and Shmee, right?" He asks me anxiously.  
  
"Right!" I agree, a little too sickeningly nice for my own good. I follow it up with a little nod, and his dubious look fades somewhat. "It won't heal your injury, it's too late for that, but it will soothe the rage in your heart. Too much of that drives you mental."  
  
Nucking futs, like Nny. I add silently, you don't want to end up like him.  
  
"Okay..." he nods, and glances up at the clock. "Pepito wants me to come over again today. I'm almost late. You can baby-sit Shmee for me." He drops the bear in front of me and hares off to the door again, opening it and shutting it.  
  
His loathsome parents are out somewhere, I don't know where, and I don't much care, either. I turn away from the bear and glance down at the knife again, pondering.  
  
"You think you're clever." Comes a slightly raspy voice. I turn to see Shmee, sitting up and gazing at me with his ivory shaded eyes, slitted in righteous anger.  
  
I smile. If worse comes to worst, I'll rip off his head the same as Nailbunny, and the problem will be solved.  
  
"Well, say something." He urges, "You're pretty talkative to my human."  
  
"Yes, I AM clever, and I'm dangerous, too, so if I were you, I'd watch out." I spit at him, glaring him down, "He's my human now, not yours."  
  
Shmee stands up, and looks levelly at me. "Your threats don't intimidate me." He murmurs, "I've been watching out for Todd since he was little. I know you're bad for him... I'll find a way to let him know to get rid of you."  
  
"Get rid of me? I've got news for you, bulldog-bait. I'm like the nighttime, I'm inevitable, there's nothing you can do to prevent me. I will do just what I want."  
  
The bear's eyes widen just a fraction in response to the open challenge, and a small grin snakes its way across his muzzle. "You forget, in your arrogance. Todd trusts me. I've never done him wrong, I'm his savior. You're just some creepy little pastry-advertisement, and you hold the bottom rung in his heart. Frankly, you're lucky to have that. I think you've overstayed your welcome here."  
  
"If you honestly believe you can stop me, you can go ahead and try." I answer coolly.  
  
"I will." Shmee bares his single tooth at me, "When you're least suspecting it...I will." 


	3. Shmee Attacks

Despite my bold talk, that little stuffed menace worries me. He's mobile, unlike Nailbunny, and I don't suspect he's much of a pacifist, either, when it comes down to comparing him to Nny's proverbial protector. It's been two days since he threatened me, and since then there's been a blank wall of, well, nothing. No resistance, no open argument to any of my suggested ideas. He just sits and stares with that rectangular gaze, watching me.  
  
If it's playing the chicken game, I'm more than ready. But the constant waiting is grinding on my nerves, making me jump at the slightest noises, and look around uneasily as I go about my daily activities.  
  
Shmee is definitely something that has to be dealt with. There are limits, after all, to what an advisor can accomplish when the king's trusted friend is whispering in his ear.  
  
It's also the principle of the thing. If I let him get away with taunting me, then he'll go further. He'll be emboldened.  
  
I'm minding my own business, sitting in front of the television and watching CNN, right now. Squee is upstairs in his room, asleep. I glance at the VCR clock, blinking one fifty-two in green letters, and wonder why my new host doesn't stay up like Nny did. I've never had any other human's sleep patterns to judge from, but Squee seems lazy in comparison.  
  
"Boo." Comes a growling voice from behind me. I don't move, not letting Shmee know how much he startled me, and think up a reply.  
  
"Can I help you, Fuzz-Face?" I inquire sweetly, tapping the remote and muting the report about a mass murder at a nearby gas station. Nny's doing, I'd imagine.  
  
Silence. I risk it and turn, my blank gaze scanning the room. The leather chair looms in shadowy silence, the picture frames on the walls reflect dimly the light from the moon pouring in the window, but there is no Shmee to be seen.  
  
For a fleeting second, thoughts of my impending insanity race across my mind. They are quickly banished. Me, insane? Inconceivable. I've always been in full control of my sanity. Which means the stuffed coward is probably hiding somewhere. I stand and trot over to the chair, still looking around intently.  
  
Bookcase. Television. Window. Chair. Carpet. But no sign of the bear, no sign of any threat. Truly curious...  
  
"Shmee..." I utter, "Oh Shmee, where are you?"  
  
Nothing. My anger flares at the thought of him upstairs again, giggling at how badly he'd scared the little doughboy, how much he'd frightened that environmentally unsound danger to his beloved human.  
  
"You little shit--get out here!!" I hiss through my teeth, still looking. The door to the kitchen moves slightly and I turn my attention towards it, panicked now. Fear replaces common sense. He could be anywhere...  
  
I walk forward another step, chiding my misplaced terror. Stupid, stupid. He's just a toy, and not a very big one at that. What can he do, anyway?  
  
Famous last words, it seems, as I hear a small, telltale creak from behind. I whip around, many seconds too late, but just quick enough to see him leap down from the ceiling fan and slam his full weight into the chair. It tips back to crush me, and, stunned, all I can do is watch.  
  
Reactions kick in and I start to scramble out of the way. A dollar short, it seems. The chair smashes me into the ground, pinning me to the floor on my stomach. My hands are free, at least, but I can't move. Hell, a week ago I couldn't lift my hand, there's no way now I can lift something that weighs about a hundred times what I do.  
  
His eyes loom out of the darkness at me, pale twin ghosts, and he steps forward once more, to survey me in my helplessness. Rage quickly consumes any spark of reason I had left, and I begin to scream obscenities at him.  
  
Shmee throws back his head and laughs, ecstatic at my anger, more amused by my cursing than afraid. And of course, why should he be afraid? He has me right where he wants me.  
  
"Let me up right now, or so help me--!" I snarl, craning my neck to look at him. He settles down again, and a devious smirk twists his features.  
  
"What will you do if I don't?" He asks, silkily, "Insult my mother some more?"  
  
I fume for a few moments, swallowing an acid retort. "Fine. What are you going to do to me?"  
  
"Oh, that bit is easy." He assures me, "I'm going to take you out of Todd's life forever. After all, I am his guardian, and there isn't room in his consciousness for two of us."  
  
It's my turn to laugh. "How are you going to kill me? You're a pathetic little teddy bear!"  
  
His grin fades, replaces with a bitter look, "You obviously don't know my role in Todd's life."  
  
I pause, "You're there to be his comfort blanket."  
  
"Well, close, I suppose. Think of me as the doorstop against the wall of insanity. I don't soothe away his fears as much as I absorb the shock of them. And even more, I absorb Them, so to speak. And They aren't very happy with you, I can assure you...They're livid." He trails away and lifts one stitched paw. I watch, a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.  
  
I told you he was dangerous!! Screams a warning in my mind. Get up before you're dead, you idiot!  
  
Claws flick out of the end of the paw, shredding the stitches there. "I take it in. And I can send it out." His rasp has acquired a rather deadly flat note to it, not unlike Nny's voice when he's teetering on the edge of a killing spree.  
  
I'm frozen now, I couldn't move even if I wanted to, even if the chair wasn't pinning me to the ground. Tentacles burst through his back, three of them, with razor sharp talons all over. His tooth sharpens, multiplies, a shark's mouth, and his eyes shift from milky white to a pulsing, deep red.  
  
"And... you will feel...my human's terror... my human's pains..." His voice is deep now, an ugly animal's attempt at speech. His ears sharpen to points, and he seems to grow in size, the shadows flocking around him like the children around the Pied Piper, seemingly under his control. The wings of a bat slowly push out from his shoulder-sewn joints.  
  
His smile is satanic.  
  
He holds up a hand, a dagger forming out of the thin air surrounding it. Nny's dagger. In stunned horror, I realize he's the manifestation of Squee's terrors...and even one of them would be enough to kill me like this.  
  
"They belong to me. They will rip through your pitiful host, and They will most certainly send your black, worthless soul careening into oblivion." His eyes are like fire, mesmerizing.  
  
Disbelief contorts my features. Not here, not now...! I don't know how I'll be able to return again, if he destroys this body!  
  
He takes a step forward, this nightmare vision, the knife in his clawed hand sparkling like a deadly star, and a rumbling chuckle escapes his fang- ringed maw.  
  
A second later, he turns to the door, eyes shifting back to their white centers as a noise alerts him to danger. The wings suck back into his body, the changes disappearing twice as fast as they appeared, and he's fully normal after a moment, still gripping the dagger, as the door opens a little way.  
  
"Shmee? Oh, there you are!" Squee's relieved voice reaches my ears, and I've never heard anything so reassuring in my life.  
  
Shmee stands in the center of the room, the knife slowly fading into nothingness. "Another nightmare?" he asks in a melodic voice.  
  
"Yes, it..." His right eye narrows while the other widens, "What happened to Eff?"  
  
I snap, "No questions. Just get me out of here."  
  
Squee moves to obey, which comes as a relief, and Shmee simply watches. He's proved his point, and he supposes it's enough.  
  
After a few seconds, the weight eases and I slide out, standing and glaring at my newfound adversary. His inferior height makes him tilt his head back to return the glower, but it does nothing for his arrogance.  
  
His eyes flash red for a second, as if pointedly reminding me, and then he turns to Squee. "Let's go back to bed." He takes Squee's hand and leads him back upstairs, leaving me standing in the center of the room.  
  
I spend the next few hours sitting on the righted chair, darting my eyes around suspiciously, fearing attack from every side.  
  
He may have won this battle, but the war is just beginning. 


	4. The Battle

I'm half beginning to believe my 'life' is cursed. Every time I attempt to do something that might be profitable to me, in the short or long run, something happens.  
  
Usually this something involves demon walls, suicidal hosts, or little teddy bears that suddenly sprout teeth to make a T-Rex look harmless in comparison. Needless to say, this is a real dilemma.  
  
On the other side of the coin, I have found a way around almost every single dilemma that presents itself to me. This 'Shmee', demon or not, should be fairly easy to defeat, if I go about it the right way.  
  
My little tendrils of corruption have already seeped down into Squee. He killed that bully the other day. The best part about the entire affair was that he didn't seem all that shell-shocked, like some hosts could get. I helped get rid of the evidence, but Shmee knew. That little creature seems to know everything.  
  
I know it can't be true. Even if he is powerful, he's not omnipotent. He has weaknesses, or he would have killed me that night he had me pinned. I doubt seriously that he knows exactly what he's dealing with.  
  
And so I've waited for days now, and my patience has finally paid off. Crouched in the dark shadows of the kitchen, I'm alert and ready for any noise. I know that Shmee sometimes makes nightly excursions when his master is asleep: checking the house for burglars-slash-demon entities-slash- malevolent spirits. A devoted guard dog indeed, but one who's well past the age to be put down.  
  
I can hear his soft-footed padding on the tile floor and tense up, ready to kill him. The knife in my left hand feels slippery, and I clutch at it, afraid of it dropping to the floor and blowing my cover. Shmee only beat me the last time because he had the element of surprise. Well, we'll see who gets that advantage now.  
  
The small shape moves into the kitchen, and I lunge. Time seems to slow down as suddenly I'm struck by the thought, a good seven seconds too late, that Shmee seems to have gotten bigger. This is followed by an audible snarl as the figure whips his face towards me, eyes like coals, lightning up his face with all his fangs bared.  
  
I pause to wonder, belatedly, how he was ready for me, and then his tentacles dart from out of nowhere, one of them going for the knife in my hand. I swing it to the side, dropping to my feet and narrowing my own eyes. I missed slicing him, but he didn't take my weapon. A tie.  
  
A fight isn't what I want, not a real one, anyway. I'm not arrogant enough to believe that I can defeat him fairly. I'd be a loser every time: he's simply too strong to take on that way. An ambush would have worked. Would have.  
  
He makes a sweeping motion with both paws, drawing the shadows towards closer, the darkness pooling around him, attracted. It's not just my imagination; he really does have control over it.  
  
But he has to have a weakness! My mind protests. Everyone does!  
  
"No weaknesses." Shmee remarks, and my blood, if I had any, would be running icy cold.  
  
"You can read my mind, too?!" I squeak, and abruptly feel angry with myself for showing my fear.  
  
He tosses his head back, the eyes still glowing, eerie. "Somewhat, if you aim thoughts at me." he says, modestly, "But I wouldn't worry about my parlor tricks, if I were you. I'd worry about what claws honed to razor edges are going to do to your frail little Styrofoam host."  
  
I back up a step, the knife still clutched in my hand. Right now it seems like a slingshot against Goliath, and I've never been a praying sort of person...  
  
Shmee's eyes narrow. "This is for the greater good. Todd's greater good. I'll need to destroy you quickly..."  
  
"Who are you convincing?" I ask suddenly, "Me, or you?"  
  
The teddy looks confused, off balance. I take that as my chance and turn my head slightly, looking at a point in the distance behind him. Shmee behaves like any normal person would. He turns his head to look, alarmed. Perhaps thinking I have an ally in waiting.  
  
Instantly I lunge, driving the knife down deep into his fluffy cranium.  
  
His eyes flick back to me, disinterested, and I have another second or two to wonder what went wrong. Two of his tentacles wrap around my body, squeezing gently, and the third reaches up almost absently to touch the hilt of the knife.  
  
The point is protruding about a centimeter out from the side of his left cheek, most of the glimmering blade buried inside his head, but he doesn't even seem to notice. His expression remains quite neutral as the tentacle wraps around the hilt and slowly removes the knife. The blade gleams as it is withdrawn, then slides free of him to dangle tantalizingly in front of me.  
  
"Not bad." He remarks, "But you forget...I embody Todd's fears. Do you really think a child like him wouldn't be scared of ghosts?"  
  
I twitch, suddenly afraid for my life once again. "But... you're solid!" I protest.  
  
He shrugs, "I don't make the rules, I simply play by them. And that rule dictates that I can't be killed by ordinary little weapons such as these." The tentacles constrict slightly, "How much pressure would it take to crush you?" He wonders, absently, "Or should I just gut you?"  
  
I gulp, struck anew by my fantastic helplessness. I won't beg for my life, I know that won't make any difference, but I do know one thing I can do, born of desperation.  
  
I throw my head back and start screaming. "Squee!!!"  
  
The noise is actually rather impressive, and it startles Shmee enough for me to lunge and break free. With a fluid motion, I reach up and snatch the knife from his dangling tentacle, then I look him over, trying to find another weak spot while I wait for my friend to come to my rescue.  
  
Shmee's shaken off his stupor; he lunges for me like a real bear would, arms up and swinging to slice me in half. I dart to the side, then take off running through the house, still thinking madly. What would a beast like him be afraid of?  
  
My mind runs through the options, and I can only find one that seems remotely plausible. Light. He's never in this form in the daytime, and that motion with the shadows...  
  
I take a running leap into the wall, both hands coming up and slapping the lightswitch. The dining room becomes illuminated, and so does Shmee, clinging to a wall like a vampire, all four legs splayed. He doesn't seem at all bothered by the light, shooting my theory out the window.  
  
I hear a door creaking: Squee at last. Just need to keep the demon-bear busy...maybe if I'm lucky, this can end in stalemate.  
  
Shmee leaps down from the wall, landing on all four paws and spreading his wings. His claws gleam, and his whole demeanor is impressive. I find myself admiring his power, despite myself.  
  
He lunges, running across the room at high speed, teeth bared like a wolf ready to bring down the prey.  
  
I can only cringe as he slams into me and knocks me against the wall, then raises both clawed paws. I'm stunned breathless for a second, but I kick at him anyway, knocking him back a few precious inches. He recovers himself, grimacing, and flaps his wings once to balance, unsteady on two legs.  
  
I take my chance and lunge with the knife at his chest. Again, it seems to have no effect; he makes an impatient gesture and flings it to the side with the air of a horse ridding itself of flies.  
  
The dim noise of it clattering away seems to signal my doom. If I'd only had a tiny chance before, now I'm completely doomed. I feel like kicking myself. He's already explained that that kind of assault is futile.  
  
Running on instinct and a growing sense that annihilation is painfully near, I dart out the door, slamming it shut in the demon's face and taking off towards Squee's room.  
  
The door thuds as if something very powerful has decided it needs to come down: something powerful but not clever enough to think of using the doorknob.  
  
I put it aside as I reach the bedroom hallway, and look around wildly for Squee. Something occurs to me all at once, with a frightening clarity.  
  
Squee is one of the most timid people I've ever met. What makes me think he's going to risk his life by running out to combat a menace ripping his 'friend' apart? Nothing, that's what. But he's probably cowering in his bed, so if I go to him...  
  
"Shmee won't dare to kill me in Squee's presence." I mutter wildly, "There's no way he'd show Squee what's he has become."  
  
This thought a last, wild hope within me, I run over to his door and start beating on it, frenzied, "Squee! Open up! It's Eff, Squee, it's your best friend in the whole world, come on, please--!!"  
  
I've never been very good at friendly persuasion in times of great stress, and this is no different. The door remains closed.  
  
Another door, however, the one to the dining room, bursts open, and the thing that is now only barely recognizable as Shmee steps out. He begins down the hall slowly, his eyes flaring even brighter, and a wicked smirk lights up his face.  
  
His fur has darkened. Apparently the longer he stays in his nightmare form, the more drastically it affects him. His arms and legs have lengthened slightly, giving him the appearance of a graveyard ghoul. The tentacles have acquired deadly ripping blades on their ends, and spikes have appeared, more of the changes becoming visible as he trudges down the hall towards me.  
  
I lean back against the door, berating my stupidity anew. This thing is way out of my league; I'll be the first to admit that now.  
  
But it seems, as the monster slowly closes the distance between us, that this is a revelation I've come to far too late.  
  
"There is great talent buried somewhere within that fluffy little body of yours," I plead, acutely aware that every fragment of emotion showing through could be the one to make him attack, "We could be allies in arms. Trust me. Together, there would be no stopping us."  
  
"Ahhh....But what have you to offer me, little doughboy?" Shmee asks grandly, spreading his arms. "All you see is all that I am. If I could defeat you so easily that you would resort to asking about partnerships, obviously I have no need of you. My only duty is to Todd."  
  
"Forget Todd!" I gamble, forcefully, "What could he give you? Him and his foolish parents in this godforsaken place? You amount to nothing!"  
  
He seems to waver, just for an instant, the piercing eyes regarding me coolly, and then he mumbles, again "My only duty is to Todd. Everything else is irrelevant, and you threaten him. You have to be destroyed."  
  
I back up a step, trying to back up through the door. He has that Nny look again, and it is a look that I do not want focused on me.  
  
Shmee lunges. My time has just run out, but I'm not going to see my death coming. I squeeze my eyes shut and the world goes black.... 


	5. The Finale

I feel the monster slam brutally into my midsection, the door actually flies open behind me, and my eyes snap open to see the looming Shmee on top of me. He's staring at the bed, where Squee is sitting, mutely.  
  
Trying not to draw attention to myself, I wriggle out from under him. Shmee seems shocked, off-balance. Perhaps in his rage he didn't know his own strength, or know how weak the door was. In any case, he doesn't notice as I free myself, still gazing at Squee in something like horror.  
  
"Todd...?" He asks, meekly, the tentacles stock still, the pointed ears drooping somewhat.  
  
Squee just stares, terrified into silence, the bedcovers clutched in his hands. Shmee rustles his wings and walks forward slightly on all fours.  
  
Not a very good way to state his case against ME being dangerous; he looks like a walking movie monster.  
  
"Is...is that you, Shmee...?" Squee asks, nervously. He recognizes fragments of his old, cuddly friend beneath the twisted exterior, and Shmee is wearing a truly pained look.  
  
"Yes." He responds, ducking his head, "Please don't be afraid of me, Todd. It was all for you. All of it. I took them into me to protect you from them..."  
  
Squee looks toward me, helplessly, but I'm too stunned to seize the opportunity. Shmee stops at the foot of the bed, in all his evil glory, and repeats, "Please don't be afraid. I was going to show you, when you got a little older... I didn't want to frighten you. Believe me, Todd."  
  
Squee nods mutely, then shifts to a standing position on the bed to look at his teddy more completely. "Are you going to kill me?" He asks, timidly.  
  
"No!" Shmee's response is vehement, "Never! I am here to protect you, Todd, I don't want to kill you!" He sounds hurt, tormented, a regular bundle of angst. Like Nny on an off day, or D-Boy on a good one.  
  
The teddy seems to have forgotten me altogether as he clambers up on the bed: Squee seems to unconsciously lean back a bit to even the distance, still wary.  
  
I'm recovering from my scare just a little, enough to wonder why Shmee doesn't just shift back to his older, more visually pleasing form. But I'm not about to dispute it, backing towards the door and wondering what the number is for the local exorcist. Squee meets my eyes, and I guiltily stop, nearer to the door than before, but still too far to make a run for it if Shmee goes ballistic again.  
  
"Does it hurt?" Squee seems to be getting over his own shock, addressing his toy. The bear's eyes, usually coal red, have become much less glittery.  
  
"Yes...all the time... but I had to. I had to, or you would have ended up like your neighbor, crazy, unable to deal with it... and him." He nods to me, "He is a product of that sick, twisted mind."  
  
"First of all, I'm a product of a demon from another dimension," I snap, "And secondly, you're not exactly a poster-boy for a mentally healthy friend. Don't forget that you tried to kill me two minutes ago."  
  
He growls, drawing lips back from elongated fangs, and I come to the realization that he's gotten worse. Much worse. The changes are accelerating, and...perhaps even becoming permanent.  
  
With this knowledge, I take aim again, "Not to mention the fact that you look like the sum total of everything Squee fears. Why would you have any reason to protect him?"  
  
"Why would anything change between us?!" Shmee growls in return, losing control again. His fur looks glossy black now, his eyes deeper red, tentacles longer and crueler...almost demonlike, "You're an intruder, a foreign body, a virus into my human's mind, and if you don't leave him alone, I'm going to rip you in two!"  
  
"Now, see, Squee? Which of us is more rational?" I ask, sweetly, "And which would you feel comfortable having in your room while you slept?"  
  
Shmee howls, growing more and more uneasy with my apparently excellent self- control while his is so poor, and pounces for me. I'm more than ready for an attack and duck to the side, and he lands softly, harmlessly on the carpet behind me. He turns, "Todd, I protected you for so long, and comforted you, and advised you as best I could...Does my appearance now matter so much?"  
  
He's getting worse. Much worse. Now any traces of what he used to be are buried under the nightmares straining to break free from him, he can't keep a leash on any of them. Just like Nny, playing with fire and trying to dictate to otherworldly beings how things are.  
  
Squee is looking from him to me and back again, and I can't help but feel pity for the poor child, having to choose between us.  
  
"But...Shmee, I want the old you back." He says, quietly.  
  
And then, from the horrified look on his face, I know he's come to the same realization I did: that it's far too late for any change to occur, that he's lost control of the monster, and he's got nothing to lose anymore.  
  
He turns to attack me, to try and bring some final pleasure in taking down his nemesis, when my eyes catch motion from outside the door, and I gasp. I can tell he's measuring my response, not wanting to be tricked again, and then he inclines his head and moves just slightly to view the door. The shadows are seeping in like a mist, moving for Shmee as if pulled by a magnet, and he lets out a panicked squeak as they congregate and sweep down to engulf him.  
  
There's never any hesitation on Squee's part. The kid jumps down from the bed and plunges headlong into the mist to find his favorite toy, and to my shock, the mist moves aside for him. Squee reaches for his friend-turned- beast-of-darkness, and the mist darts away from Shmee again, taking with it all the changes. Horns, claws, wings, tentacles, darkened fur and blood red eyes, all disappear as though they never were.  
  
And the mist chuckles in a voice that I recognize.  
  
Suddenly, it becomes clear to me. "D-Boy!!" I point accusingly at the shadows, which return with the same maddening chuckle, then plunge towards me. Squee clings to Shmee in terror, not understanding what I do-that D-Boy was returned as a cleanup crew by the demon to destroy all traces of its failed attempt...all traces including me.  
  
The room goes dark as the specter clamps down on me, and its touch burns.  
  
"No!! Noooo!!! Not again!!" So cliché, but the best I can come up with as my body is ripped to shreds, D-Boy fades away like a bad dream, and I land somewhere, hard.  
  
No words, not yet. Not for this disappointment, again. Voices are chattering away; I don't know where I am, everything is dull, numb confusion.  
  
My eyes trail upwards to a sign, reading it once, then twice, then again in disbelief.  
  
"No."  
  
An anguished scream tears from my throat at the message on the wall, at the hopelessness of my new situation. I'll be damned...  
  
WELCOME TO HELL. 


End file.
